


Head of the Snake

by bijou3owl



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, is it really crossover if it's in the same universe?, there will be violence later but I'm not sure how graphic it will be yet, will update the tags as necessary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bijou3owl/pseuds/bijou3owl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something potentially HYDRA - and potentially alien - has surfaced in Hell's Kitchen, and Black Widow is sent in to check it out. Turns out there's an idiot dressed up as the devil running around complicating matters...</p><p>[This is set post-Age of Ultron and Daredevil Season 1.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head of the Snake

**Author's Note:**

> Giant thanks to Anarfea for being my beta and guiding me in the ways of fiction (because dialogue and POV aren't exactly things that come up in technical science writing).

Natasha stretched, catlike, as she stepped off the bus. She was dressed in faded skinny jeans, black high tops, a red tank top emblazoned with a logo that had been washed away by time, and a light-weight, hooded, un-zippered, black sweatshirt that had bleach stains in one corner. The strap of a worn canvas duffle crossed her torso. Her eyes scanned the bus terminal as she stretched; the Port Authority was crowded, but not packed. She raised her hood, navigated out of the terminal, and then, once she had exited, moved in a vaguely northwest direction.

She zig-zagged up the blocks, the neighborhood getting steadily seedier as she went. Somewhere in the Preservation Area, she ducked into an entryway immediately adjacent to a bodega. At the end of the long hallway that ran parallel to the store, there was a tiny reception desk between a set of stairs and an unmarked door. The desk was unattended, but there was a bell to ring for service. Natasha lowered her hood as she advanced, measured but casual. She rang the bell, and proceeded to read the piece of paper - sealed to the desk in a layer of clear packing tape - that detailed the room rates and advertised the free WiFi in careful block letters.

The bell rang in the bodega, and a minute or two later, a short, solid, middle-aged, Dominican woman came through the door to the right of the desk. Natasha gave her a warm smile, and spoke in the honest, intermediate Spanish of someone who had learned it in school, but had never applied it in a real conversation.

“Good evening _señora_.”

The woman gave a tired smile, appreciating the effort, and took care to speak slowly and clearly for the young patron.

“Good evening to you too _señorita_. Would you like to rent a room?”

“Yes. I am going to be in town for one or two weeks, but it is possible that I will need to stay longer. Is it possible to rent by week?”

“ _Si, claro_ , no problem.”

Natasha got out cash for the room and filled out the paperwork while the woman went through the room keys.

“Would I be able to select my room?”

The woman paused, considering this.

“Yes, come with me.”

Natasha slid the completed registration and cash across the desk. The woman filed the papers in one of the desk drawers, secreted away the cash, and grabbed the management key ring along with the occupied room list.  They went up to the fourth floor – Natasha had told the woman she would prefer the top floor, if possible – whose long hallway matched the one on the first floor. The side above the bodega had a few doors, and the opposite wall was empty save for a fire extinguisher. There was a lone window at the end of the hall, with an illuminated EXIT sign flickering above it; the fire escape could be clearly seen through the window.

“Is the one on the end open?”

The woman consulted her list.

“Yes, would you like to see it?”

“ _Si, por favor._ ”

Natasha and the woman walked down the hall to the room. It was small, barely able to accommodate the twin bed pushed into the far left corner and the narrow walking space that ran along the bed’s open sides. There were windows on the far and right-hand walls, facing the alley and street respectively; the edge of the fire escape could be seen through the street-facing window. The bathroom, immediately to the right of the door, was equally cramped, and contained a tub shower, a pedestal sink, and a toilet, with fresh towels on a tray under the sink. Natasha expressed her satisfaction with the room.

“I will go down and get your key.”

Natasha nodded, and let her bag down on the bed as the woman descended the stairs. She went out to the hall window, examined it, and switched the lock a few times before sliding it open. There was no resistance – the window was well maintained, as a fire exit should be. She went back to her room and tested those windows in the same way: they didn’t glide like the hall window, but they were fully functional.

Natasha had her head out the alley window, supporting the sash with her hand, when the woman came back with the key.

“You can use the piece of wood to keep that open.”

Natasha pulled out of the window and looked down at the floor. There was a small piece of wood lying there. She picked it up, and used it to prop open the sash. It fit perfectly.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome. These windows either do not stay open or do not open at all.”

She handed Natasha the key.

“If you need anything else, ring the bell downstairs.”

“I will.”

The woman gave a polite nod and exited the room. After a few moments, Natasha carefully and quietly closed the door.

* * *

She had just finished a training session with Steve and the new kids, and was heading towards the showers when she passed Nick Fury. They exchanged the customary gruff nod of acknowledgment that happens when two acquaintances pass each other in an otherwise deserted hallway.

“Romanoff, my office”

The command was given in brusque, hushed tones, while he looked straight ahead and kept walking. Never a slow day with that man…

She hit the switch for his office and stepped inside, the door sliding shut automatically behind her.

“Sit down Romanoff.”

She gave her usual sly smile: a joke – no one ever sat at these meetings.

He halfway turned to face her, and gestured at something on the desk.

“Have you seen anything like this before?”

On the table was a wrinkled piece of paper. She stepped closer and picked it up. It featured a symbol, crudely drawn in black marker, clearly a quick field job. The thing looked like a cross between a barbed fishing hook and a question mark, except the barb was on the outside circumference. The other end was curved in a small loop that served as the question mark’s dot. If you squinted, it could be some sort of snake, or serpent.

“No, never. Where’d you find it?”

“A small HYDRA base in the middle of nowhere. They caught wind of all the other base raids and got out of there real quick. This was on a page of some not-so-well-destroyed documents. “

“What’s it a symbol for?”

“Dunno. Could be nothing. But considering all the weird and violent things HYDRA sticks their fingers in, I figure it’s worth looking in to.”

Natasha looked up from the symbol, with a subtle look of bemusement on her face. Most would not have picked up on it, but Fury’s eyebrows cocked just a hair.

“Care to elaborate, Agent Romanoff?”

“Fury, why do we care? Whatever this was to HYDRA, it’s not relevant anymore. HYRDA’s all but destroyed, and what’s left is scattered in bolt holes across the globe. Is it really worth our time chasing after shadows?”

Fury looked her in the eye, answering soberly.

“Look, I’m not worried about HYDRA - I’m worried about whatever otherworldly powers they might have been in contact with. You saw what Stark messing around with some of this stuff did. I’d like to avoid Round Two.”

He sighed, and continued in a slightly more conciliatory tone.

“Like I said, it could be nothing, but I’d like to make sure it’s nothing before dismissing it.”

Natasha gave a small, curt nod, putting down the paper. She waited for him to continue, expectant. He tossed something else on the desk: a white paperboard packet, about twice the size of a book of matches, with the symbol inexpertly stamped in red on the front. She reached to pick it up.

“The question is, how does this symbol go from destroyed documents in a HYDRA base halfway across the world to embellishing packets of heroin in the back alleys of Manhattan?”

She studied the packet: inside was a small plastic bag, securely attached to the paperboard such that the contents did not accidentally spill when opened. Quite a nice little design, actually.

“Clearly, HYDRA’s got a drug problem.”

She gave a self-satisfied smirk, and Fury shot her a vexed look.

“Anywhere these guys are a particular favorite?”

“I don’t make a habit of hanging out with junkies, but this one was picked up around Midtown, with more floating around Clinton.”

She nodded, studied the packet for a few more seconds before putting it down. She turned, starting for the door, but stopped and looked back towards him.

“Hey, what was with all the secrecy earlier?”

There was a small smile and a quiet chuckle.

“Oh, that? Well, the new Powers That Be aren’t particularly fond of sending our best agents out on wild goose chases.”

She returned his smile, and left the office, heading out of the facility. It was time for a fun little trip to Hell’s Kitchen.


End file.
